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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052463">Deal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/youresoawkward/pseuds/youresoawkward'>youresoawkward</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Met Gala, Play Fighting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/youresoawkward/pseuds/youresoawkward</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The robot arms have proven to be a sticking point for Liam. From the moment Zayn showed him the rough sketch of them in the pre-planning meeting for his Met Gala outfit, he’d been fixated, and when the arms finally arrived a few hours before the Gala yesterday, Zayn thought Liam wasn’t even going to let him out the door with how enamored he was with them.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Or, Liam doesn't want Zayn to return his Met Gala costume, but Zayn is reluctant to agree. They make a friendly wager on an arm wrestling match to decide who wins.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zayn Malik/Liam Payne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Deal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>previously posted to tumblr dot com. just trying to get my life in order and corral all my writings into one spot</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“Leeyum, stop,” Zayn whines, pulling his arm from Liam’s grasp. “Just let me take it off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not yet.” Liam grabs for his arm again, fingers pressed against the exposed skin of his wrist and carefully avoiding the the shiny metal of the faux armor. He brings a dry cloth to the metal, wiping away a spot Zayn’s convinced only Liam can see. “I need to see the full effect first.” The full effect includes Zayn dressed head to toe in black, one arm covered in the metallic cage and combat boots on his feet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Zayn sighs and rolls his eyes, all to distract Liam from seeing how unbelievably endeared he actually is. The robot arms have proven to be a sticking point for Liam. From the moment Zayn showed him the rough sketch of them in the pre-planning meeting for his Met Gala outfit, he’d been fixated, and when the arms finally arrived a few hours before the Gala yesterday, Zayn thought Liam wasn’t even going to let him out the door with how enamored he was with them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam finishes polishing the spot and pulls his phone from his pocket, opening the camera app and stepping back to get Zayn’s body in the shot. “Smile,” he commands. Zayn gives him his brightest grin, cheeks bunching and tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. “Wait, don’t smile,” Liam corrects and Zayn lets his smile fall, replacing it with crossed eyes, sticking his tongue out at the camera instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam drops his arm, picture untaken. “Zayn! Be serious!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Liam,” Zayn says, mimicking his tone. “Be less serious.” Zayn moves toward him, stepping into Liam’s space and wrapping the arm not hindered by the silver contraption around Liam’s waist. “What’re you gonna do when I have to give the arms back, huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their faces are close and Zayn watches the disappointment tint Liam’s features. “Why don’t you just keep ‘em?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can’t,” Zayn says with a shrug. “Jason’s already called three times today to see when he can come by to pick them up. The designer wants them back.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll buy them for you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe they’re not for sale,” Zayn counters.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Everything’s for sale,” he says, matter of fact, and Zayn knows he’s right but he still opens his mouth to argue. “How ‘bout this?” Liam interjects before Zayn can give voice to his objection. “We’ll arm wrestle for them. If I win, I get to buy them and you can’t say anything against it. If you win, I’ll call Jason myself to pick them up. What do you say?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam’s grin is smug and Zayn wants nothing more than to win against him. He thinks he can do it too. Liam’s not the only one who goes to the gym everyday anymore.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Deal,” Zayn replies, holding out his hand so they can shake on it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They settle at the table, Zayn’s robotic arm bent and ready, palm open and wiggling his fingers in an over exaggerated warm-up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam grasps Zayn’s hand, long fingers locking them together tightly before he presses forward suddenly. The metal hits the table hard, Zayn’s arm bending to the side and Liam lets out a shout of victory.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That doesn’t count! You cheated. I wasn’t ready yet!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t be a sore loser, babe. It’s unbecoming,” Liam says, mock serious, and Zayn glares at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Again,” Zayn commands, getting their arms back into position. “Do it right this time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fine. On three,” Liam says, readjusting his grip on Zayn’s hand. “One, two, three.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This time Zayn’s ready for him and he flexes his bicep, pushing back hard against Liam’s strength and holding his ground better than he would have a year ago.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam’s face is scrunched in concentration and exertion, and Zayn knows his face is the same as he puts every ounce of effort he can muster into winning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam huffs and flexes and he manages to gain a slight advantage on Zayn, his metal covered arm bending to the side. The idea of losing is enough to keep him from letting Liam press his arm all the way to the table and Zayn buckles down in an effort to ward off defeat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Your bionic arm can’t save you,” Liam grunts through his clenched jaw.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wanna bet?” He presses his elbow harder into the table, concentrating all his effort and he manages to get their arms back to the center position.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam looks surprised and Zayn manages to push him further while he’s caught off guard, the balance now tipped in Zayn’s favor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh-uh,” Liam grunts, twisting his hand in Zayn’s, bending his wrist back, and using the extra leverage to take away Zayn’s edge and slam his arm into the table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No way! You cheated again!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Prove it,” Liam says, leaning forward.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I want a rematch,” Zayn huffs. He could have won with a few more seconds, he knows he could have.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just admit that I won.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“C'mon, Zaynie,” Liam appeals, darting forward to wrap his arm around Zayn’s waist, pulling him off the chair and letting them both topple to the floor, Liam turning them so he absorbs most of the blow. Zayn’s surprised by their fall and Liam uses Zayn’s confusion to roll them, pinning Zayn under him. “Admit it. I won and I can keep the arms.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He struggles against Liam’s weight but Liam is steady above him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please, Zayn?” he begs, and he leans down to peck Zayn’s lips. “Please?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know. I might need more convincing,” he teases.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam leans in, his breath warm against Zayn’s lips and Zayn tilts his head, waiting for him to bring their mouths together again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Zayn’s phone rings loud from his pocket, breaking the atmosphere that’d grown between them. He wiggles his hips under Liam’s, fingers digging into his pocket and Liam growls above him in frustration but he pulls back enough to give Zayn room to check the caller.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, Jason,” Zayn huffs, breath still coming in short from their struggle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Zayn. When can I come get the arms, man? I gotta get them back by tonight.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam watches Zayn with half lidded eyes, flushed face hovering above him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“About that,” Zayn starts. “I’m keeping them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam smiles so big his eyes crinkle, and Jason sighs across the line. “You can’t just keep them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then get me a price,” Zayn says and Liam leans in for a kiss at that, slotting there lips together sweetly and distracting Zayn from Jason’s protests on the other end of the line. He pulls away reluctantly to speak. “Listen, I gotta go. Text me the details about the arms, yeah?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He ends the call and threads his fingers into Liam’s hair, pulling his head down until their noses bump. “You happy now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liam smiles. “Very.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://zaynsthatkindofbeautiful.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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